


Let the sky fall

by cytrusekk



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Astrophobia (kind of), Home, Loneliness, M/M, Outer Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytrusekk/pseuds/cytrusekk
Summary: The Lone Wanderer; everybody seemed to think it was a nickname he had chosen for himself and he hated it.





	Let the sky fall

19 years he had spent underground, always surrounded by concrete and steel, with the sound of water running through the pipes humming him to sleep.  
For the first few months in the Wastes he felt dizzy and confused, desperately longing for solid labirynths of walls where there was only open air for miles and miles in every direction.  
For the night, he always squeezed into some tiny cavern that would enclose him, because he was too scared to fall asleep under the stars. He was scared that the sky would fall onto him, or that he would fall into it and become even lonelier than he was now.  
He chatted people up, whenever he met a Wastelander in need he helped them, but they just thanked him and went their own way, who knows where to. The friends he made, he travelled back and forth between them, but they would never reach out to him, everybody had their own thing going. Even though the communities made sure to show their appreciation, they never offered him what he so longed for, which wasn't caps or unique weapons - just some sort of acceptance and the feeling of belonging. The _Lone_ Wanderer; everybody seemed to think it was a nickname he had chosen for himself and he fucking _hated_ it.  
  
After a year, he got used to it. He even stopped bringing companions along everywhere, they were just that - temporary companions, never friends. They were always eager to get off the contract and go back to their… place? Home? What they thought of the little piece of this world they claimed for themselves, he could never know. He had a house in Megaton, more of a storage unit really. Even though it felt kind of like his room in the Vault, he didn't like to sleep there. He had a house in Megaton, but it wasn't his home.  
  
He grew fond of the travelling merchants. Even though they were Wastelanders, they also seemed out of place like him, always on the move, never hurrying back anywhere, just going in circles. They knew more about the Wastes than residents of cities and settlements who rarely stuck out their noses and even though they weren't a community, Wanderer sometimes caught himself thinking of them as such. He needed them, and well, didn't he spin a lot of their trade?  He bought supplies off Harith, Doc Hoff and Crow just to go and scavenge loads of useless crap for Wolfgang. It probably wasn't a very good deal, but…what else was there to do?

  
Besides, he liked how Wolfgang's eyes lit up when he saw him hauling a bag of loot, and he liked impressing him with the stuff he found. Liked talking about where to look, liked bargaining just for the hell of it and throwing in a bunch of stuff extra.  
He liked it when Wolfgang complained that recently he couldn't find any forceps and he could bring him just that. Never mentioned anything about how an unlikely family of Deathclaws almost killed him because he didn't want to waste time by going back to fill up on Stimpacks, how he literally (literally) pissed himself from pain and relief when he found the damn forceps together with a full First Aid kit.  
This incident gave him something to think about for a time, and finally he decided that his growing crush on the man was rather worrisome.

So - first of all, he shouldn't get tangled up in a feeling that couldn't be reciprocated. Second of all - he shouldn't get attached to _anything_ here on the Wastes.  
His conclusions were pretty sound and he kept to them for two weeks, that is, until he met Wolfgang again while travelling near Arefu. Without thinking, he shouted his name and waved when the man turned to look for the source of a voice calling him from above. Wanderer jogged up to him, smiling from ear to ear.

  
"No deal today, boss. Don't have no caps, don't have no stuff," said Wolfgang in a greeting and Wanderer only then noticed bluish-red shadows on his face. There was also no mercenary in sight. His smile dissappeared immediately.

  
"What happened to you?" he asked cautiously, even though he already knew the answer.

  
"Raiders, of course. I got away with a few bruises. Sam... well, he didn't. Get away."

  
Wanderer's stomach turned and his good humor quickly got replaced by helpless frustration. These were probably a bunch of roaming raiders who already moved on and it would be impossible to track them down. He could try, though.

  
"Where?"

  
Wolfgang started to answer, but changed his mind.

  
"Look," he said instead. "Why don't you stay with me? I could use some company,"-he hesitated when Wanderer's eyebrows shot up- "I'll pay you alright. Got some debts to collect, I'll raise the caps quick enough."

  
Wanderer shook his head. There was no way he was going to let Wolfgang roam around by himself and one day find him rotting in a ditch somewhere.

  
"No, no, don't worry about that. It's cool. Very cool, in fact. I'm ready, let's go. I mean, we don't have to right now, if you don't want to, I--"

  
Wolfgang smiled so wide a wound on his lip opened back up.

  
"I get it, Charlie."  
  
No Wastelander had ever called Wanderer by his name. Wolfgang had never used it either since the time he introduced himself when they first met, when Charlie even bothered to introduce himself. It didn't quite feel like his own name after so long, but this simple gesture built a bridge (maybe a catwalk) in his mind between the time in the Vault and the time in the Wastes.

* * *

  
They headed towards Canterbury Commons and normally, it would take Charlie less than two days to get there. He always walked fast because he always had something to do and somewhere to be.  
Now, Wolfgang was setting the tempo.  
And he didn't walk. He strolled. Charlie's legs hurt from the strain to make slower, shorter strides. Wolfgang noticed his scorn and locked jaw from the corner of his eye, but didn't comment on it.  
They were silent for wide spaces of time, but between Wastelanders, silence wasn't awkward, it was universal. All of them were so used to their own company, they almost forgot how to chat back and forth with other people to pass the time.

  
"Um, sorry I didn't ask, are you hurt or something?" asked Charlie when the day was nearing its end and they started looking around for a place to sleep. Maybe this was why Wolfgang was walking so slowly.

  
"Just a bit bruised. What about you, why are you so nervous?"

  
Charlie wondered what one thing has to do with the other and where is the logical connection between the phrases, but gave up.

  
"Well, I don't know what you're up to in Canterbury Commons, but if we picked up the pace we could be there tomorrow..."

  
"Why should we? Nobody's gonna die because they need a leather belt. There's no point in getting there faster, I'll always be circling the same route anyway."

  
Charlie wanted to suggest that people relied on the timetable of the merchants, but there wasn't a timetable. There were no clocks.

  
"Relax. I guess the only person who needs my regular visits is you. And I'm right here."

  
"Bold assumption," muttered Charlie, feeling a bit offended by the truth of the statement. Wolfgang didn't respond and left the Wanderer to ruminate. At least when he had something to think about, he stopped feeling so anxious about their pace.

  
There was always somebody to help around here, but then again, if he didn't, it wouldn't matter much. He already did his part and doubts he could repeat the feats he had been capable of just a few months ago. Almost dying from radiation was definitely on the bottom of his "to do again" list.  
And even if. Even if there was something important he should be doing, even if there was somebody who desperately needed help right now, it wasn't his moral obligation to be running around saving the world. What did the world offer him in return? Doubtful fame and a bunch of fucking bottle caps he doesn't even need anymore. Bottle caps. Useless pieces of alluminium.  
From now on, he decided, he'll just do things for himself. Or for Wolfgang, as it seemed he was the only person who treated him as an equal human being.  
That night they slept on mats near a fire; Wolfgang on his back and Charlie on his stomach. Charlie asked if he wasn't afraid of the sky falling on him and Wolfgang looked at him weirdly, he didn't laugh though.  
He said it made him feel peaceful, knowing that the vast expanse of the universe doesn't care about him or any of this at all. Charlie nodded, but didn't agree.

* * *

They went to Canterbury Commons where they got drunk and tried to ride Wolfgang's brahmin. They went to Megaton to pick up stuff from Charlie's house. They went to the Underworld to sell it back to ghouls. When they walked into the Ninth Circle, Charon made an expression that suggested he would raise an eyebrow if he had one. Charlie sat down with him for a while, but Charon considered him merely an employer; he was obliged to serve him by contract and didn't feel the need to get cosy.  
Charlie liked the Underworld for its walls and ceilings, but it was a ghoul city and he would always be a smoothskin to them. When they walked outside, he looked back at the building longingly. Wolfgang put an arm around his shoulder and shook him lightly.

  
"No point in trying to understand ghouls, Charlie," he said. "They live in the past you never knew."

  
Charlie didn't take note of his words, but he did take very careful note of the arm touching him and the heat radiating towards him. He hadn't been touched in... well, he and his father hugged when they reunited, but honestly, everybody here kept a reasonable distance.  He wasn't sure whether he wanted to lean in or run away, so he just stood there, tense and unmoving. Wolfgang must have felt it, because he freezed and quickly moved away.

  
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, straightening the strap of his rifle.

  
"No, I'm sorry for being such a weirdo," said Charlie, and patted Wolfgang on the shoulder. It felt awkward, but he liked it. Couldn't wait to do it again. "You're right about ghouls, you know. I guess it's easier when you share some past with each other."

He beamed at Wolfgang, thinking about the time he met him near Megaton, when he was fresh out of the Vault, still in his suit. Wolfgang was the first person he met on the Wasteland and his upbeat voice and carefree demeanor steadily washed off Charlie's panic.  
He didn't know what Wolfgang was thinking about, but it seemed like they were on the same page.

* * *

Charlie took Wolfgang to the Oasis, because he's never seen alive trees. Wolfgang studied their leaves, wondering if he could sell them.

  
"Would you look at that. A talking tree," he said when Harold greeted him. "Can they all do that?"

He turned to Charlie, who laughed and shook his head. Harold began a slow rant about his intelligence. Wolfgang waved his hand dismissively, suddenly more interested in a pool of crystal clear water. His eyes shined with childish glee as he glanced at Charlie and started undressing.

  
"It's irradiated," Charlie stated, carefully trying not to show interest, but also equally carefully taking note of Wolfgang's every movement and each inch of skin revealed.

  
"We use irradiated water all the time. And I know you've got a stack of Rad-away you don't even know what to do with. Come on, Charlie, how often do you see water so clean?"

  
Charlie almost went cross-eyed from trying to both look and not look at the naked man who seemed to have no shame at all. He waded into the pond, loudly announcing how warm the water is. To distract himself, Charlie engaged himself in a conversation with Harold, who was glad to have somebody not in the treehouse club for company. But when Wolfgang got bored of splashing around and started getting out, his eyes inadvertedly wandered.  
Wolfgang caught his gaze and laughed.

  
"You can look, Charlie," he said, but it made Charlie even more flustered.

  
"Charlie?"

  
Wolfgang's tone forced Charlie to look him in the eyes.

  
"I don't mind. I really don't."

  
Charlie didn't say anything. But as Wolfgang was dressing unhurriedly, his eyes followed the trail of his hands, the notches and shadows on his skin. He wasn't even at arm's length, but it felt as intimate as a touch.     
When he finished, Charlie needed a moment to catch his breath. He wasn't so naive as to think Wolfgang didn't notice his interest, but he was thankful he didn't comment on it. Charlie's hands hadn't felt the warmth of another human's skin for so long he could howl. When Wolfgang came to stand in front of him and asked a question, he barely heard it over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. There was an unbearable lump in his throat, he closed his eyes and tried to swallow it, but his mouth was too dry.  
"Are we going to sleep here?" Wolfgang said.  
Charlie nodded.

* * *

"It feels weird that I can't see the open sky because of those trees. I like the stars, they make me feel free," remarked Wolfgang, lying on his back by Charlie, who sat staring into the fire.

  
"You don't, do you?" he continued, turning his head towards Charlie, but Charlie didn't notice. "You always sleep on your stomach or with your head under a blanket."

  
Charlie mused on an answer for a while, whether to tell the truth or make and offhand remark. He decided that Wolfgang deserved more than that and, more importantly, he wanted Wolfgang to know more.

  
"You know, I spent nineteen years in the Vault. If I wanted, I could always touch the ceiling. Wherever I went, I was surrounded by walls. And people. Some of them I hated, some I loved, but all of them were my family, they were always there. They knew me. Here, you can go for miles and days and not meet a single human being. And even if you do, you can pass each other like it doesn't matter. In the Vault, you mattered even if you were the worst scum in the community. Here, you don't matter even if you're the so-called savior. You can die right under those stars and nobody will even remember your name. Nobody will know your story. Your own story, the one you want to tell. Many times I was on the brink of death with only stars for company, but they just loom over you, cold and distant, and I hated them, I was scared of them. And I thought... if nobody is around to hear my story, then what was the point? I mean, yeah, I know I'm being such a prentetious brat right now, because they're talking about me on the radio all the time-- but they only know me as the Vault Boy, the Wanderer, and that's it. I'm like, some force of nature. I want to belong, but nobody wants me around. They welcome me with open arms, but they never expect me to stay."

  
He felt like an idiot admitting this, he understood that he had it a thousand times better than a standard resident of the Wasteland; he was exaggerating and he wasn't even sure if he answered Wolfgang's question. But it felt good to talk for once.

  
"Well, I do want you around. Thought your smart ass would've caught on to that by now."

  
Charlie blushed, after all Wolfgang asked for his company himself and just-- accepted him, not even once mentioning parting ways. He really _was_ being a pretentious brat right now. Thankless, too.

  
"If you want me to hear your story - tell it. I'd be happy to listen. And if you want, I'll tell you mine" said Wolfgang

And he made true to his promise, taking in everything that Charlie had in his head, sometimes making his own remarks, but mainly just listening. Just before dozing off, Charlie mentioned that he wants to hear more about Wolfgang, too.

"Yeah, yeah," answered Wolfgang drowsily and shifted closer until the tops of their heads touched, just barely.

* * *

After a few weeks Charlie started running small errands, but always came back. The moving merchant and his portable junkyard became more like home to him than anywhere on the Wastes. He liked that they knew something about each other, he liked that he could talk to Wolfgang about his memories from the Vault and that he knew most of the characters by now, he liked that Wolfgang was not only a merchant to him anymore, but a person with their own past - a harsh one, but who around here could hope for anything better? Most of all, he thought, he liked that they had their own shared memories. He finally felt like he was making a place for himself in this world, his life taking a more coherent form instead of bits and pieces thrown around and carried off by the postapocalyptic winds.

  
Wolfgang came from a family of slaves in the Pitt and he made it out of there by himself, but he never looked down on Charlie for having an easy life as a vault-boy and didn't underestimate his fears and problems. Despite being broken down by Slavers and betrayed by the only person who seemed like they wanted to help him out of that hellhole, he was... compassionate. Under the facade of extravagance and quirks that made others dismiss him as cooky, he was surprisingly level-headed, which was probably why he still survived in the Wastes and fared pretty well, even. The things that  _actually_ made him weird were his unusual for this environment personality traits - his sincerity and friendliness seemed uncanny in a world where another human being may smash your head in for a handful of aluminium. Sometimes Charlie thought that there _really_ was no other like him and goddammit, how lucky was he to find such a person in this forgotten place?  
  
It was getting dark and Charlie was losing hope of finding Wolfgang tonight when suddenly, while scanning the dim surroundings from a higher vantage point, he noticed a fire. He picked up his rifle, looked through the scope and surely enough, it was him. He stifled a whoop and broke into a run down the rocky slope.  
He felt giddy. He felt like a boy who saw his crush from afar and couldn't wait to get acknowledged. But just before he almost-waltzed into the camp, he reined those emotions in and put on a cool face.

  
"It's me!" he called out both not to get shot and in a greeting.

  
"Yeah, that's the password," Wolfgang laughed, stood up and welcomed his companion with a handshake. Charlie's cool face melted away when he saw the other man's toothy smile. He sat down with a grin of his own and asked what's cooking as darkness fell around them.

* * *

After eating a meal made with ingredients that most probably shouldn't come together, Wolfgang rustled through his backpack and took out a box of Fancy Lad's Snack Cakes. He threw it towards Charlie who almost dropped them in bewilderement. These were his favorite sweets and he never missed a kitchen drawer that could hide them.

  
"Where the hell did you get that from?! I thought I've cleared the whole Wasteland off them already."

  
Wolfgang shrugged. Charlie didn't need to know that he paid 300 caps for them. After bargaining.

  
"Let a merchant have his secrets, and enjoy."

  
Charlie didn't need any enticement, he had already ripped the box open and was stuffing his face like a wild animal.

  
"Man, this is so amazing I could kiss you," he said between mouthfuls, licking his fingers. Wolfgang raised an eyebrow, but Charlie seemed oblivious to the ambiguous meaning of what he'd said, focused on eating another cake and already looking into the box to check how many more were left.

  
"Who's stopping you?"

  
Charlie did a double take and with his eyes fixed on Wolfgang's and cheeks full of sweets, he chewed through whatever he had in his mouth and mind slowly, and swallowed. Then, he carefully set the box down, closed the distance between them and, after crouching just between the man's legs, got kissed by Wolfgang who decided it's taking way too long.  
Charlie reciprocated quickly enough, showing more fervor than he would like. Wolfgang didn't try to slow him down, but rushed in to match him instead. Charlie pushed at the same moment Wolfgang pulled, and they both lost their balance, coming down hard on the mattress, Charlie's weight crashing into Wolfgang's chest and forcing the breath out of him.

  
"Sorry," he mumbled, not really that sorry, but Wolfgang just laughed and flipped them over. They kissed again, Wolfgang's hand reaching for Charlie's hair and Charlie didn't know what he wanted more - to lean into the warm hand on his temple or reach deeper into this smiling mouth, his own hands wandering down the man's body and trying to find their way under the clothes. When they broke apart Charlie decided that what he wanted most was to stare and take in the look of this gorgeous face illuminated by the firelight. Then his gaze shifted a bit to the side and over Wolfgang's shoulder, he saw the night sky and froze. There it was. But there was also Wolfgang pressed flush against him, his body as warm as his smile and his mind was torn, because yeah, it's all up there, but here, he was safe, he was wanted, and definitely not alone. He had someone who let him into their life to stay.  
Wolfgang noticed there were a lot of things happening in Charlie's head and quickly caught on why. He strained his neck to look up at the stars too, then leaned back down and watched Charlie's expression. His attention soon enough snapped back to Wolfgang and his concerned frown. Charlie reached with his fingers and smoothed the crease on his forehead.

  
"Let them stare."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and sorry for any mistakes! Think I might've overused "really" in this fic. Also, I really enjoy writing rare pairings. Also, this Wanderer would probably feel at home with The Family, but they kind of creep me out (maybe some other time).


End file.
